Inferno
by tinseltowns
Summary: She barely recognized the name Imogen Moreno. Who was she?


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any characters mentioned in this story, or Degrassi. Though if the opportunity arose...

**A/N #1: **I had this idea brewing for a little while now, after I wrote the first Imogeli story. This is a sequel; I'm not posting it on the same document because...well, because I can. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. I took a little bit of a different approach with this one. I'm not sure if you're going to like it, but hey, that's what reviews are for, right?

Enjoy.

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><p>Inferno.<p>

Skin against skin, clothes falling to the floor, breath heavy in the air. It was all so vivid in his memory, almost like it was happening all over again. Just thinking about it sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins, and made goosebumps crawl across his skin. He almost couldn't recognize himself in the mirror; he clutched the countertop for support, vision blurred, as he looked at his reflection. His hair was extremely disheveled, a tousled mess of dark brown hair. He was undoubtedly a mess.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was that image of her in that corset and those gloves, teasing him and kissing him and pushing him over the edge. It was the best thing he'd felt in a long, long time; sexually, anyway. The best feeling he'd had in his life was with another person, a person who had become to scared to hold onto him any longer. He cringed as she entered his mind again, pushing the picture of the girl he'd seen moments ago out of his mind. Auburn curls, electric blue eyes, plump lips practically begging him to kiss her. He had to steady his breathing just thinking about her.

But she was gone. She couldn't be the one to make him feel this way anymore, and he knew that. He had to move on, and he knew she'd already taken that step. Running around with the school's newest jock; brown hair, tall, muscular, that smile that'd make any girl swoon. He hated him. He hated the way he flaunted her around the school, the girl that should be his to begin with. He hated the way that he hung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him with every step they took down those god damn hallways. He hated the way she'd giggle at every little thing he said, even if it wasn't even close to funny. He hated the way that she'd moved on so fast, and seemed to have forgotten he even existed. But he did, they did, and they happened. They were real.

Eli clenched his fists, gripping the edge of the linoleum countertop. Anger was rising up inside of him, yet again, all because of her. His breathing was becoming unsteady, and it was becoming harder and harder to control it. He could feel his chest tightening, his throat closing, and the air getting thinner. Everything was coated with a blackening haze. Reaching for the cabinet, he tore the door open, and frantically dug around for the little prescription bottle. Xanax. His prescribed medication, kept his anxiety down. Seeing as he hadn't exactly planned to be as active as he was before, he hadn't taken the dosage that was prescribed for him; only half of it.

Dry swallowing was something he'd always hated, so he stuck his head underneath the faucet, and took in a few sips of water before popping in the pills. His shirt was soaked; thanks to the usual shakiness that followed an anxiety attack, he'd practically taken a shower in the sink. Eli sighed, pulling of his shirt, along with the rest of his clothing, and tossed them to the ground one by one. Turning on the shower, he leaned against the countertop as he waited for the water to heat up. A mirror image of his green eyes stared him down in the reflective glass, mocking him. Small bruises trailed along his jawline, down to his neck and the tips of his shoulders. He cringed as his eyes followed the patterns of little black and blue marks, jaw clenched tightly. Eli closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and slowly rolled his head to the side; he needed to calm his nerves.

Steam spread steadily across the mirror, getting thick enough to cloud his reflection. Eli pulled back the curtain, stepped inside, and slid down the tile wall to the floor. Near-scalding water rained down on him, turning his skin a pink color. He felt burning for a moment, but soon a numbness began to settle. He was grateful for this, the not feeling anything. The medicine was kicking in, and the crazy Eli was drifting away. The crazy Eli that had crashed his most prized possession to keep a girl who'd moved on so quickly. The crazy Eli that was still madly in love with the same girl, but had just received a handjob from another. The crazy Eli who was so god damn confused about how he felt that he numbed himself with anti-anxiety medication and sat on the floor of a shower burning his skin until it turned a splotchy light red.

Crazy, crazy Eli Goldsworthy. The dangerous maniac, the psychotic lunatic, the liar. That was all he was known as.

Crazy, crazy Eli Goldsworthy. The man who was undeniably in love with Clare Edwards. That was all he'd ever be.

Clare walked towards the school building early that morning, trying her best to keep a straight face among the growing crowd of people outside. The security system was backed up, and students were becoming more and more impatient with the police trafficking them. She let out a sigh, gripping the straps of her bag as she searched the crowd for a familiar face; maybe Jake, the boy who'd come back into her life and practically swept her off her feet. Or her friend Alli, who'd stuck by her through all the drama of her latest breakup. And then there was Eli, whom she wanted to avoid as best she could; she was far too nervous to talk to him after what'd happened, due to the fact that the last time they'd spoken, she'd accused him of manipulating her when he needed her the most.

"Clare Edwards!" a high pitched voice yelled from behind. Clare turned around, raising an eyebrow as Alli shoved her way through the crowd. "Clare! Did you hear yet? _Please_ tell me you've heard!" she exclaimed, brushing the dark hair out of her face. "Hear what?" Alli pounced on her friend, wrapping her arms around her and patting her back sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Clarebear." The taller girl had never been more confused in her life; why was she being so apologetic? Had she done something wrong and she didn't know? "Alli, what's going on? Would you let go of me and tell me what's wrong?" she pleaded, pushing her friend off her gently. Alli sighed, pursing her lips, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well," she leaned in, whispering, "rumor has it that a certain ex-boyfriend of your's hooked up with some girl named Imogen Moreno."

A stabbing feeling hit Clare's chest, like someone had taken a knife and driven it into her chest, and was twisting it. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. All the air had been sucked out of her body by some invisible force, and it was choking her, making her numb. He'd had sex with another girl a few weeks after they'd broken up. He'd had sex with her. _Sex_. After all of the things he told her about not wanting to pressure her, and how he'd had some regrets about the things he did with Julia because of her, and that he'd wait for her to do anything again.

It was all a lie. Everything he said to her was a lie.

"Y-you mean…they had sex?" she muttered, lip quivering. Alli nodded, "At least that's what they're saying. He's not worth it Clare, you know that. You're the one who broke up with him, remember?" _That doesn't make it hurt less_, she thought. "Yeah…I guess you're right," she whispered. Clare wanted to feel nothing, just have every single emotion tearing her body apart fade into thin air and leave her a shell. She'd rather be empty than have all this betrayal and anger and resentment crashing down on her. She wanted nothing more than to run home, curl up in bed, and cry her eyes out. But she couldn't do that, because Alli was right; she was the one who broke up with him. She should feel indifferent, like it didn't matter because they weren't together and it wasn't her business. Clare couldn't feel like that, though. She felt like it was her business, because she still was in love with Eli. The only reason she broke up with him was because she was scared.

It's not every day that your boyfriend crashes his hearse for you.

She barely recognized the name Imogen Moreno. Who was she? Was she some sort of slut? Did Eli know her when they were together, and kept her a secret? Did he cheat on her? That last possibility was a bit far-fetched, but she couldn't help but wonder. Everything was spinning. She needed to get out of here. "I'm…I'm gonna go home. I feel a little sick," she lied. Alli raised her eyebrows, giving her a curious look. "Really?" she asked. Clare shot her a glare, "Yes, I am. Now, please, let me go without an interrogation. Or would you like me to throw up all over you?" Making a disgusted face, she sighed, "Go. Feel better. I'll call you tonight." She nodded, running past her friend and making her way down the sidewalk to her house.

Lately Clare had taken to walking to school; she liked taking the time to think about everything, trying to clear her mind. It wasn't working one bit, but she thought it was worth a try. Right now, her mind was the bodily equivalent to Grand Central Station. A billion thoughts at once were zipping past one another, screaming over one another, each trying to win out a battle of who could out-yell the next.

_He didn't love you._

_No, he still does; he's just trying to get back at you._

_Why would he have sex with someone to get back at you?_

_Because in his crazy-boy mind, he thinks it'll make you jealous and want him back._

_What about Jake?_

_What about Eli?_

_Jake's known you longer. _

_He threw dead frogs at you._

_But he's not one for drama. And he looks really, really good in plaid._

_In other words, he's a boring lumberjack._

_Eli's made it clear that he's moved on._

_Like I said, he's just trying to get back at you. He doesn't love Imogen. He crashed his freaking hearse for you!_

_How do we know that, though?_

_It's Eli we're talking about._

_Exactly._

Sighing, she walked up the front steps of her house, slamming the door behind her and running up the stairs to her room. Clare kicked off her shoes, took off her jacket and hung it over her computer chair, and collapsed on her bed; arms splayed out side to side and legs laying carelessly over the edge, she looked up at the pale white ceiling, eyes playing tricks on her and painting imaginary patterns on the bland surface. The ceiling caved in, a black matte forming around her eyes. She blinked, and it was gone again. Maybe she really was sick. Standing up, she pulled off her uniform shirt, as well as the khaki skirt, and flung them to the other side of the room. Walking over to her closet, she flung the doors open, fingers running across the hangers as she searched for something comfortable to wear. She stopped dead in her tracks when her hand grazed a black sweatshirt. Her heart raced as she pushed all of the other close to the side, taking the black fabric in between her hands. _Dead Hand_ was printed in disjointed red letters on the front, with '_Reunion Tour 2010'_ in small, white text below.

It was Eli's. He'd left it here after coming back from one of their urban adventures; they'd gone out to a park in Alberta, and gotten soaked in the rain. They'd come back to her house, knowing her parents were out on a church retreat, and curled up on the couch together, watching old movies with blankets draped over their shoulders. She'd curled up against his side, and he'd whispered he loved her and kissed her cheek, and they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. The next morning, they'd made breakfast and read books and tossed story ideas around, and then he'd left later that night, leaving the sweatshirt behind. When she'd tried to return it to him at school the next day, he told her to keep it; "In case you miss me too much," he'd teased, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Clare removed the sweatshirt from the hanger, pulling it over her head and taking in his scent. It made her want to cry, the feeling of something of his wrapped around her like his arms. She crossed her own arms over her chest, walking back to her bed, and sliding underneath the covers. Pulling a pillow to her chest, she buried her face in it, biting down on her lip as she held back the urge to cry. She hadn't cried since the night in the hospital, weeks ago. She wanted to more than ever now. Not just for Eli, but for her parents, who's divorce was being finalized in less than a week. Her parents and their so-called perfect marriage that had fallen apart because they were 'too different'. Her parents and their so-called romance that had died out and was lost in the thousands of memories they had. It was dead. And that's when it hit her, that so were her and Eli. As much as she hated it, and it burned her, 'they' were dead, lost in their thousands of memories, just like her parents. Clare brought her knees to her chest, pulled the hood up over her head, and cried as the scent of her ex-boyfriend filled her senses.

School was hell, hearing all the whispers in the hallways and receiving glances from kids he didn't' even know existed. Everyone knew his name, and everyone was saying it. Eli avoided Imogen, not knowing what to say to her after what had happened. She'd tried to walk up to him, talk to him more than once; he merely turned in the other direction, or pretended as if she wasn't talking to him. He avoided everyone that day, even Adam; he skipped lunch at their usual table to eat outside on the front steps, trying to think. Breezing through his classes, playing the mute act, taking an anxiety pill after every period. He didn't want to feel anything. He wanted to be numb.

Walking through the front door of his house, he was met by Cece, who offered him a reassuring smile. "Hey there, babyboy. How was school?" she asked cheerily, pulling him into a hug. Eli reciprocated, shrugging as she pulled away. "It's just school. I should probably get started on my homework." He sighed, walking up the steps upstairs, heading to his bedroom. "Your dad and I scored concert tickets tonight. We were thinking of going, but only if you'd be okay here by yourself tonight," she shouted. Eli turned back around, leaning over the railing. "Yeah, you two have fun." Cece half-smiled, "You'll be okay by yourself? We can always call Adam, see if he can come over and stay with you until we get back. Maybe he could even spend the night." "Mom,'" Eli started, "I just kinda want to be by myself tonight. You've got nothing to worry about." Crossing her arms, she nodded. "I know, I'm just worried about you sometimes. Ever since the accident…"

Throwing his bag to the floor, Eli ran down the steps, and threw his arms around his mother. "I'm getting better. I couldn't do that to you, mom," he whispered. Cece buried her head in his shoulder, stroking his hair. "Promise me, okay?" He nodded, "I promise." She cleared her throat,, muttered an 'okay', and walked away into the kitchen. Letting out a deep breath, he went back upstairs, grabbed his bag, and shut the door to his room. Peeling off his uniform, he replaced it with a pair of sweatpants and his favorite _Dead Hand_ T-shirt. He closed his eyes, collapsing onto his bed, and shifting his weight as he tried to get comfortable. He needed to sleep.

About five hours later, Eli awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and walked sleepily down the stairs. He nearly tripped over the coffee table, cursing under his breath and limping to the door. Who the hell was at his house at this time of night? His parents must've left at least a half-hour ago for the concert; it was at least 8 o'clock. He figured it must be some telemarketer or something, or maybe his mom had called Adam and told him to show up to make sure he hadn't hung himself in the bathroom. He sighed, opening the door. "Adam, if Cece called you, you can g-" Eli stopped himself.

It was Clare, standing on his doorstep, biting her lip and nervously playing with her 'true love waits' ring. She was staring at her shoes, almost as if she was afraid to look up and see him waiting there. "Clare? What are you doing here?" he asked weakly, trying his best not to stutter. It didn't feel real, to have her standing here, after everything that'd happened between them in the hospital. He couldn't believe his eyes. "I-I…I heard what happened, with you and Imogen," she whispered, eyes staying glued to the solid black flats on her feet. Eli sighed, crossing his arms over his chest; this was just fucking _great_. With the rumors that went around at Degrassi, he could only imagine the things she heard. "What exactly did you hear?" he inquired, eyes searching for her own. No response.

"That you…" she muttered. Clare took a step towards Eli, her gaze lifting slightly. She was still far too nervous to look him in the eyes. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was beginning to feel more and more lightheaded with each passing second. Another step, and her gaze met that familiar guitar pick necklace. The same one that had been there the day she met him, the day he ran over her glasses. So much had changed since then. Another step, and she was at most, two inches away from him. She could've fainted right then. Blue eyes met green. "I want you," she said softly, a hand lightly tracing up his chest, and cupping his cheek. Eli's breathing hitched, and she felt his body tense up just slightly. Closing her eyes, Clare tilted her face upwards, lips drawing closer and closer to his. He was so close to her. To her, Clare Edwards, and not to Imogen Moreno, whoever that was.

He was her's, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Clare," he breathed, uncrossing his arms, and letting them hang loosely by his sides. Eli's mind was reeling; he had no idea what she was doing. One minute, she seemed to hate him. One minute, she'd been going on dates with Jake the Jock, and laughing and gossiping with Alli. One minute, she'd left him alone in the hospital as he sat there in shock, heart imploded. Yet the next, here she was, standing on his doorstep just seconds away from kissing him. She was telling him she wanted him, practically begging him. His breathing was ragged, and he was wondering how long it'd be before his legs gave out and the both of them fell to the floor in one big heap of human lust. The electrical tension in the air was rising. "Please, Eli. I-I…I want you, all of you."

_Was she implying…_

All of it clicked together; what she must've heard, what must've been running through her mind. She was here because she was hurt, and because she thought that he'd stopped caring about her. Both of them, they were the same.

He loved her, and she loved him.

And that was something that wasn't going to change.

"As you wish," he muttered, capturing her lips in a kiss.

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><p><strong>AN #2:** Well, I'm not sure how that turned out. It was a little longer than I intended. But anyways, I hope you liked it.


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